


Oh What A Tangled Web We Weave ...

by StarTravel



Series: DS9 One Shots [2]
Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Identity Issues, M/M, POV Elim Garak, POV Julian Bashir, Post-Episode: s05e16 Doctor Bashir I Presume, Suspicions, Verbal Cruelty, eventual hurt/comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-20
Updated: 2019-05-01
Packaged: 2019-08-26 09:31:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,291
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16679038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarTravel/pseuds/StarTravel
Summary: Garak finds out about Julian’s genetic enhancements and confronts him about why he sought his friendship and affection. Their reactions aren’t what either of them expect.





	1. Chapter 1

Julian’s not surprised when Garak strides into his quarters a few hours after his parents depart, eyes so gleeful and vicious they were practically doing _Giselle._ Julian gives him an exhausted nod, waving one hand through the air lazily as he waits for the brutal teasing or harsh accusations of hypocrisy. It’s not as though he can deny any of them. What he gets instead shocks Julian, Garak’s dulcet tones spreading throughout his room like waves of electricity. Julian should’ve seen this coming. Garak’s never liked to be predictable. “Was it hard, pretending to care all these years?”

 “Excuse me?” Julian lets out a shaky laugh, one that sounds far too high-pitched to his own ears to be strictly natural. He needs to be more careful now, one wrong move, one wrong sound, and he’ll end up locked away in the white walls he’s been taught to fear since childhood. Garak smiles in that way of his that always looks a little pained, sweeping his arm out as he looks down at Julian with pride and disgust all at once. It’s a bit like looking into his father’s eyes, come to think of it.

 “You’re not like the rest of us. You’re more intelligent, more talented, quicker, stronger.” Garak moves across the room as he speaks, smirk growing wider and wider as he talks, watches for Julian’s flinch on each and every word. He looks a bit like Sherlock Holmes and Julian wonders how different everything would be if Garak had walked into his Watson program instead of his Bond one a year ago.

 Maybe Julian would’ve told him the truth instead of Garak hearing it through whispers through the hallway. Maybe he would’ve trusted that Garak had any faith in him at all.

 “I’m hardly stronger than you or Worf,” Julian mutters instead of any of that, not moving from where he’s sitting on the couch, turning his gaze back to his novel. It’s something by Preloc, a novel Garak recommended to him years ago and they never got to fighting over. Julian swallows at the thought, closing his eyes and wrenching his face up, barely caring that he practically just _gave_ Garak the match. “Is there a point to this, Garak?”

 “I just wanted to compliment you on your lying, my dear,” Garak answers him with a benign voice and placid smile, but when he turns on his heel to meet Julian’s gaze, all he sees is betrayal and a slowly building rage. Julian swallows but doesn’t move beyond a small tilt of the head and a rueful half-smile. This is the reaction he expected, the one he deserves. It’s only right it comes from the person he least expected it from. “You even had me fooled and that takes quite a bit of skill.”

 This time Garak’s voice is cutting, a million sewing needles tearing at his arm the same way he used to ruin Kukalaka’s when he was a child. Julian rolls to his feet, holding up his hands placatingly even though he’s not sure he has any right. “Garak, I never wanted to deceive you or anyone else-”

 “Save me your Federation platitudes, Doctor. It’s just the two of us in here. Tell me, how many times did you let Chief O’Brien fix things you could’ve managed by yourself? How many patients did you let die to keep your secret?” Garak pauses and Julian has to bite back the answers, hands shaking a little. The first, 38.5, the first 10 in a misguided attempt at friendship. The rest were to keep up appearances. For the second, none, thank God for everyone else’s ignorance when it came to medicine. Bareil shouldn’t have lived to see another breath, terrible as the ones he did see turned out to be.

 Then Garak takes a step closer, eyes flashing as he presses his hands against Julian’s shoulder. His gaze is like acid, body trembling a little with an unspoken rage. “How many lovestruck men did you trick with your smug, wide-eyed innocent act because you needed to know what it was like to live in exile.”

 Julian feels his stomach drop as blood rushes to his ears, the entire room feeling like it’s been cloaked with static. His breath is coming too fast and Garak. Garak is not who Julian wanted him to be and it is his own fault he thought he could be. “Get. Out.”

 Garak lets out a dry laugh, bitter and ringing so loudly that it makes Julian tremble a little harder than before. He’s by the door now, though he doesn’t remember moving, limbs feeling too big and skin too small for his body. Garak smiles at him, eyes twinkling with a cruel mirth as he leans in toward Julian. “Oh, have I touched a nerve, my dear -”

 “As you’ve made painfully clear, I’m not your ‘dear’ anything, Elim.” Julian is surprised by his own voice, the emptiness coloring it even as he feels hot tears slide down his face and his limbs shake more and more with each passing moment. Garak’s smile fades, eyes narrowed as he opens and closes his mouth, for once having nothing to say. That suits Julian just fine. “Now get out and don’t come back.”

 Garak turns and walks past him, pausing at the door with an open mouth. For a second an expression that could almost be mistaken for regret comes across his face, but it’s gone as quickly as Julian imagined it. So is Garak.

 Julian makes a few stumbling strides back to his couch, legs still shaking when he crumbles onto the soft cushions. He can feel the tears still running down his cheeks and into the neck of his uniform, but he can’t bring himself to care.

 Of everyone on this base, even including Miles and Jadzia, Julian thought Garak would be the one who understood enough to look at him and see the truth. Instead, everyone else who mattered _except_ him did.

  
The smug, wide-eyed innocent Julian is the only time he’s been anywhere close to being himself since he was a child. That’s all he’s ever been, that and a lie that slowly chipped away at those things. And Garak, well Garak couldn’t have loved _him_ much at all if he missed that.


	2. Illusions

There are people - foolish people - who’d think Garak is being cruel to Julian with his sudden dismissal of the other man from his life. Those people don’t understand either the gift or the betrayal that Julian Bashir has dealt him.

 A gift because Julian’s one of the few people on this ship who can challenge him, go barb to barb to him without ever getting overwhelmed or forcing Garak to slow his mind down. To finally have an answer as to why that is gives him a sense of satisfaction, proof that he’s not becoming rusty in his forced retirement.

  A gift because Garak is fully aware of all the uses that genetically enhanced brilliance has for the Alpha Quadrant and for Cardassia. Even if Julian’s glibly delivered calculations suggest a loss, Garak knows Julian will eventually be able to figure out what they need to do. Then men like him and Sisko and God knows who else will do what it takes to carry them out and win this infernal war.

Julian will object of course, Garak knows him - or at least the mask he shows the public - and the history of the augments well enough for that. Garak wonders if that particular brand of self-righteousness is a flaw in their design or just naturally born of making someone smarter than they should be.

 Garak decides it doesn’t matter. As long as Julian is kept from making decisions, there won’t be a problem.

 A betrayal because Garak let himself trust Julian, just a little. Garak believed the compassionate, moralistic doctor who fought with him point for point, who sat by his bedside and cared for him while his wire laid siege to his brain, who he let watch Tain _die_ , was real, could be real. It’s a child’s mistake, one Tain would have rebuked him for at length.

  Trust is not something that can be afforded and loyalty is not something that should be easily given away.

And Garak gave it to Julian Bashir, who turned out to be nothing more than an empty doll. A creation of scientists who implanted each brilliant thought and each charming yet obnoxious personality trait, who shaped those bright hazel eyes and too wide smile. Nothing about Julian is real, every aspect of him either someone else’s science project or a carefully crafted act to make the rest of them think Julian was something approaching human.

 Garak needs to know what’s behind each act, what the doctor’s true desires and ideals are, how he plans to use each piece of himself that Garak shared with Julian before he knew the truth. And that’s how he finds himself back in the infirmary, watching as Julian moves across the room with a stiffness that’s now clearly false to him, limbs just a bit too perfectly placed. “Still working hard this late into the night, Doctor? I would have thought that you’d have tired by now, given that you’ve worked at least three shifts in a row. But I suppose creatures like you don’t need as much sleep as the rest of us.”

 “Is there a reason you’re here, Garak? You don’t look especially injured.” Julian tuts even as he spreads his arms out in a gesture for Garak to come into his office. Garak doesn’t miss the way Julian’s gaze flickers across his frame in search of injuries or signs of stress, a hint of elation coming into his gaze when he finds nothing. Garak wonders if that’s from affection or from relief that Julian won’t have to talk to him much longer.

 “I have a headache.” Garak explains as he brushes a hand over his forehead, letting pain consume his voice for a moment. Julian narrows his gaze tightly, though Garak swears he can almost see a smile pulling at the corner of his lips. For a second, they are back on Deep Space 9 before Julian shot him and before he found out the man he might have loved was a mere fabrication.

 “What a pity.” Julian murmurs softly, leaning forward to brush a hand out towards Garak. Just like that, the moment is gone, Garak flinching before the hand ever so much as brushes against a scale. Garak never been a fan of being romanced by holoprograms. He doesn’t see any difference here.

Garak shakes his head a bit as he saunters further into the room, walking around Julian as he takes in the man’s slender frame, the narrow limbs and angular lines. Garak imagines it must not be considered the human ‘ideal’, what with how Julian tries to imitate the broad and muscular with those padded shirts he wears sometimes under his uniform. He’s always preferred the reality of Julian’s frame, slender and soft in some places and sharp in others.

 Garak wonders idly if the body in front of him, slender and beautiful in its sharpness was a failure in those scientists quest for perfection or a way of hiding the strength underneath. Another mask, as carefully placed as the tired but concerned look in Julian’s eyes now. “So cold, Doctor. I thought our years of friendship would afford me better quality of care.”

 Julian scoffs a bit as he crosses the room, any illusion of stiffness replaced with an easy grace that sends a shiver down Garak’s spine. It reminds him of how Julian moved during sex, long limbs stretched out and body bending underneath him with a flexibility he associated more with Trills than humans. Garak used to think it came from his past as an athlete. He knows better now.

  Julian comes to stand in front of him and makes a clucking noise with the back of his throat, gaze just a touch worried. He really is a good actor. “You’ll get the same care as everyone else. Now sit down so I can run the tricorder over you and get back to my research.”

 “My apologies, I don’t mean to interrupt your work, Doctor.” Garak murmurs pleasantly as he takes a seat on the edge of the sick bed, crossing his legs at the ankle. He raises his eye ridges slightly and leans forward, smile stretched out so nearly all of his teeth show. Julian takes a step back, eyes widening a bit as he nearly drops his tricorder to the floor. Garak wonders if his surprise is genuine or another performance. “I imagine all those equations must provide you more entertainment than we mere mortals ever could.”

 “Garak.” Julian’s voice is sharp, filled with an unspoken warning as he runs the tricorder across his body in a rote fashion. It doesn’t matter. Garak’s done his research into augments since learning the truth. The good doctor’s never needed a tricorder at all.  

 Garak simply grins brightly in response to the catch in Julian’s voice and the slight shake of his shoulders, the way his hands clench and unclench in unspoken annoyance. He really is a brilliant actor. Garak can’t believe he ever thought Julian wouldn’t make a good spy. But then, he supposes his line of work is simple when one doesn’t have any real views of their owns. He’s the perfect toy for the Federation, hand delivered by Adigeon Prime. “You can’t blame us, Doctor. We’re nowhere near your level of brilliance or detachment. How awful it must be, surrounded with all of us sentimental, stupid creatures -“

 “Shut. Up.” Julian’s voice comes out choked this time, each word just a bit too heavy on the infliction to be completely natural. There’s a watery cast to his gaze as he turns around suddenly, messing around a bit with his medicines. Garak watches him impassively and wonders when he learned to cry on command, or if that’s merely a benefit of being able to control his vital signs.

 Julian hands him a hypospray and gestures to the door wordlessly. Garak takes one last look at his shaking frame and watery gaze and leaves.

* * *

 Garak is trying to enjoy a nice lunch and put yesterday’s confrontation with the good doctor out of his mind when he has the sense of being watched. He glances around the room instinctively for Julian, half-expecting to find him doing a frankly terrible job of hiding behind a wall or a plant. But no, that won’t happen again. Garak imagines he’d never even glimpse the real Julian Bashir.

 Instead the person watching him is Conmander Dax, and she’s doing nothing to hide the fact.

 Jadzia walks over to his table with a smile that feels more like a knife, setting her tray down but making no move to sit. Garak raises an eye ridge at her, trying to keep his expression pleasant. Commander Dax hasn’t been a threat him in the past, and he’s not sure what’s changed now, but he knows he wants to fix it. Jadzia Dax is a good ally to have, and Garak has no interest in losing the few he has left. Her voice is surprisingly soft when she speaks, even though her gaze looks closer to molten lava. “You need to leave him alone.”

 Of course. Garak should have figured that out before she even got across the room. Maybe he really is getting rusty after all.

 “Commander, what a pleasant surprise.” Garak smiles warmly as though she hasn’t said anything, spreading his arms out in greeting. Jadzia gives him a flat look that for a second reminds him of Julian, but that quickly fades when no fond amusement or undisguised concern  follows.

  Garak feels a strange emptiness at that, one that sends heat down his spine and up his throat. He reminds himself that there was never any true fondness. Not for him.

 “You don’t have to be friends with him anymore, that’s your choice. But you don’t need to make him feel worse about himself either.” Jadzia’s voice is short, her anger captured with each biting word. She crosses her arms behind her back as she circles him, never once breaking eye contact, expression giving everything and nothing away at once. Why she thinks Julian of all people needs protection is beyond Garak, but it’s novel to have someone new to play the game with.

 “I have no idea what or more importantly _who_ you’re talking about, Commander.” Garak answers with surprise, leaning back against his chair. He widens his eyes and tilts his head to the right slightly, enjoying the flash of frustration in her face. It’s no fun playing if he doesn’t get a few hits in, after all.

 “I’m talking about Julian and you know it.” Jadzia stops circling him suddenly, leaning in so there are only a few inches between them. Her gaze is more like steel now, the anger replaced with something harder and far more dangerous. She’s almost as good at this as Julian, and she doesn’t even have enhancements to explain it. Just a worm. Her voice is tight when she speaks again. “We all heard it when you compared him to a computer, you know.”

 “I don’t see why pointing out that his genius is considered insulting.” Garak shakes his head a little, pursing his lips as though he’s confused by Federation customs. Julian, or the man he pretended to be, would roll his eyes and start a playful argument about cultural values, eventually digressing into literature or lingering touches.

 Neither occur with Jadzia, who instead slides hand under her chin and looks into his eyes as though she can see past them to every thought he has, a hint of a smile at the corner of his lips. Sometimes he forgets that he’s dealing with someone with 400 years of wisdom.

 “That’s not what you’re doing. He’s not the indifferent, cold hearted monster you’ve made him out to be and you know it.” Jadzia tells him and this time her voice comes out almost sympathetic, a touch of warmth there that makes Garak stiffen. He doesn’t need pity, certainly not from Jadzia Dax of all people. But she doesn’t let him move away, gaze softening just a bit at something she sees in his gaze. “None of us like feeling deceived, but Julian wasn’t trying to trick you. Everything you knew about him before is still true. I know you know that deep down.”

 “I know nothing of the sort.” Garak keeps his voice level even as that same burning sensation from before starts spreading across his spine and sliding into his veins. Doesn’t Commander Dax understand that’s the most dangerous possibility here? that Julian Bashir is exactly the same, save his lies of omission? That instead of turning out to mask his true ideals and desires, to use Garak for what he needs, Julian is genuine on those fronts?

Bitterness and hurt will fade over times, fresh wounds fading to scars. Hope burns far more dangerously when left alive.

 The anger in Jadzia’s gaze is almost entirely gone now, though the steel remains as a reminder that she won’t take hurting her friends lightly. She would’ve made a good Cardassian, in another life. Her voice is almost unbearably kind when she speaks, her hand reaching out to brush against his wrist as though they were friends. “Yes, you do. You might be paranoid, but you’re not an idiot. Go talk to him. Julian deserves that much.”

* * *

 Garak can’t help turning over Jadzia’s words over in his head for the rest of the afternoon and we’ll into the night, a frankly obnoxious development distracting him equally from his translations _and_ his book of Kardassi elegiac chaptered epics.

 There are too many unresolved questions about Julian swirling in his mind now, too many possibilities that are dangerous for him or the Alpha quadrant or the Julian that once was making Garak’s stomach church. There was only one solution: an interrogation. Then he would know if the Julian he has built up over the past months or the seemingly fabricated Julian of the past is the real one, or something worse than either.

 Once he knows, Garak can accept and adjust. And with that in mind, he finds himself entering a familiar access code into Julian Bashir’s door.

 Garak saunters into Julian’s quarters on the defiant, small and narrow and with an unclaimed bed pressed up next to his own. Garak wonders idly if that hastily constructed double bed was for him to share, before Garak made it painfully clear that the onset of war wasn’t enough to make him overlook the end of their friendship or any of its benefits.

 In the center of said bed sits Julian, engrossed in a padd and tapping his fingers in a rapid motion against his mattress. Garak supposes that, at least, is not faked.

 Julian doesn’t insult him by pretending to be shocked by the invasion of his privacy. Instead he flicks his gaze up from his padd for a second and then turns it back to his reading without a word. Garak can’t help smiling a little, not moving from where he stands in the doorway. “Doctor, I’m sorry to barge into your quarters so late.”

 “No you’re not. Why exactly are you here, Elim?” Julian’s voice borders on frigid as he drops his padd to the side this time, gaze locking fully onto Garak. His eyes are practically blistering, all naked hurt and fury, hints of guilt along the edges. Garak wonders if someone can fake that, if eyes besides his own can tell those convincing of lies.

 “I want to talk to you about what and who you are.” Garak tries to keep his voice even, to let any of the bitterness or sentimentality burn away under the cool logic of interrogation. He needs to know if the Julian Bashir he knew and … cared for is real. He needs to know who the man in front of him is and what kind of danger he represents. Julian bites his lip, gaze flicking away nervously as he bats at one of the plants in his doorway. Garak swallows and tries to forget bright-eyed young doctors who stared at him like the sun. “I understand your hesitancy, but believe me when I say come in good faith, Doctor.”

 “You’ve never gone anywhere in good faith, Elim.” Julian snorts in a low voice and shakes his head rapidly, a few curls falling across his forehead messily. Julian’s gaze stays wary, the hurt sliding back in the longer he stares at Garak.

 He still rises to his feet and gestures for the other man to come inside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unbeta’d. 
> 
> Comments and questions are loved!


	3. Chapter 3

Garak tenses his shoulders as he gazes across the small space of Julian’s room on the Defiant, empty of anything personal, save Kukalaka neatly on one shelf. He’s always thought of Julian as messy, but his quarters both here and on Deep Space 9 are neat and sparse, free of any of the details that would make them feel like a home.

 Garak comes to stand in the center of the room as he watches Julian pace back and forth across the small space of his quarters, not even stealing one glance at him. Garak watches him and takes note of the way those long legs move almost too fast for the rest of him, body as gangly as it is lovely. 

 Garak closes his eyes and exhales slowly as he tries to remind himself to be wary. When he opens them again, Julian is mere inches away from him, expression pinched and brow furrowed. There’s the same hurt from before, the tears building in the back of his eyes as Julian tries to control his shaking hands. 

 This time it doesn’t occur to Garak to wonder if he’s faking it, not with the way his voice rises and falls, as though he can’t decide whether to be devastated or furious. “So what exactly do you want to know? How much like a computer I am? What skills I’ve been hiding from you? Which of my childhood stories are mere fiction?” 

 “I merely want to know  _ who _ I’ve been spending my lunches and the occasional night with the past five years.” Garak keeps his voice even and pleasant, a small smile pulling at the corner of his lips. It doesn’t reach his eyes at all, gaze curious and sharp as he watches Julian. He’s pacing again, long limbs moving just a touch too quickly, body practically vibrating with unshed energy. Garak watches him for some kind of give, some sign of the work that went on behind his act. 

 “Me, Elim. You’ve been sharing them with  _ me _ .” Julian tells him in a clipped voice, the shaking quality from before fading even though the tears in the back of his eyes have yet to go away. Julian clenches and unclenches his fists, mouth opening and closing a few times as though he can’t quite decide on which words to spit out at him. Julian settles for staring at him with a gaze that is both desperate and defiant, arms finally stilling at his sides. Garak has seen this expression before, when the wire sparked in his mind and he told Julian he hated him. Julian had stayed anyway.

 Garak raises an eye ridge, circling Julian slowly as he tries to keep his expression perfectly neutral. It’s not as easy as he expected, in the face of all of the emotions playing out across Julian’s face. He has no idea how to assess which ones are real and which are fabricated, if any of them. Garak tenses a bit, reminding himself why he’s here in the first place. He wants to -  _ needs _ to - know who Julian Bashir is. “Yes, but I’m not sure I know who that is anymore.” 

 “Really?” Julian asks dryly as he turns smoothly on one foot, expression pinched and gaze bordering on feral. Garak’s not sure he’s seen the doctor this angry before, at least not on his own behalf. But then, before his secrets got out, he had no reason to be. “Just a few days ago you seemed sure I was little more than a computer.”

 “Are you more?” Garak’s tone is different this time, a challenge and a question as he comes to a full stop in front of Julian. He gazes at him impassively, even as he can feel his own emotions burning low in the pit of his stomach. 

 “Of course I am! Or I think so, anyway. Do you think I haven’t asked myself the same questions you’re asking me now?” Julian’s voice shakes again as he finally loses his battle with his tears, face scrunching up as he starts pacing again. “Which parts of me are real and which parts were fabricated, how much of myself is my own, if my existence is even worthwhile when my parents sacrificed their  _ child _ for it.”

 Garak hears the catch in his voice on the word ‘child’ and knows he’s been wrong. His voice is soft when he speaks again, gaze careful. “You don’t know either, then?”

 Julian lets out a low scoff, hands falling loosely to hang at his sides and closes his eyes. Julian looks older and younger at the same time, his energy and optimism replaced with a hurt and wariness that doesn’t suit him at all. When Julian speaks, his voice is unbearably bitter. “Sadly human emotion has never been one of my strong suits.”

 “No, that doesn’t seem to be something your parents were willing to pay for.” Garak smiles slightly, just a quick upturn of his lips. Julian raises an eyebrow, hands clenching into fist. Garak can practically see all the different thoughts flitting across his mind, the fears. Maybe Julian really is as much of an open book as Garak’s always feared, not able to hide anything except how smart he actually is. 

 “What, nothing else, Elim? No jokes about how it relates to my inability to feel genuine emotion?” Each word is clipped, Julian’s tears finally come to a stop as he gives Garak a disbelieving look, mouth slightly open as if waiting for Garak to say something he can cleverly rebuke. He’ll be waiting a long time, Garak fears. 

 “No, not this time, Doctor.” Elim presses his ridges together, expression softening a touch when Julian’s eyes widen in surprise. And he’d wanted to be a spy. Garak tilts his head to the right, giving Julian a pointed once over as he takes in the sharp angles and smooth lines of his body. Garak smiles, knowing and just a touch regretful. “They made you too thin.”

* * *

 

 Julian stares at Elim, not sure if he wants to kiss the other man or shake him. He settles for glowering at him for a few seconds before turning his gaze rather pointedly away from him. 

Julian pulls on the edge of his uniform sleeve, squaring his shoulders off to try and regain some semblance of balance. Somehow Elim’s always had a way of throwing him off when he least expects it, first rejection when he wanted acceptance, then kindness when he was prepared for harshness. He used to find it charming, but now he just finds it exhausting. “Thank you, Elim. Would you like to insult any of their other work?”

 “They might have minimized how easily excited you can get or that frustrating sense of moral righteousness. It would have saved you from embarrassment a number of times.” Elim smiles as he speaks, voice light and airy as though the past few months haven’t happened and all the hurt between them has been erased.  

 It would be so easy to play along, to grin ruefully in defeat and brush his shoulders against Elim’s shoulder. But Julian can’t do that. Not while Julian still isn’t entirely sure if Elim sees a person or a program when he looks at him. 

 “Don’t, Elim.” Julian tries to keep his voice steady, taking a step back so Elim isn’t quite so close anymore. Julian needs space for himself outside of the web Elim can weave for him and trap him in so easily. Elim meets his gaze, but makes no move toward him and that’s enough to give him a little bit of hope. Julian tilts his head to the right, reaching a hand out but not quite touching Garak’s shoulder. “You don’t get to act like you haven’t spent the last three months insulting me every chance you get without so much as an apology.”

 Julian expects some kind of dismissive excuse or charming denial, pretty words that shimmer like holoprograms flickering in and out of reality. Instead Elim gazes at him with a surprising amount of tenderness, voice almost regretful. “I truly am sorry, my dear.”

 “For?” Julian raises an eyebrow, even as a part of him feels moved by the care Elim’s giving him. He’s wanted this Elim, all sharp words and soft gazes, back for months, arguably even years. But he needs to know what he is to Elim, what he  _ can  _ be. 

 “You’re not going to make this easy for me, are you?” Elim has the audacity to ask, a bit of a smile in the corner of his mouth. Julian gives him a flat look even as he can start to feel a smile tugging on his lips. Sometimes Julian almost hates how charming he finds Elim, how easily he forgives all of his transgressions when his own still hang over them, heavy and unspoken.  

 Julian tilts his head to the right slightly, letting himself smirk softly as he meets Elim’s gaze. He’ll forgive him but - not yet. “I’ve made plenty of things easy for you, Elim. I don’t see why this should be one of them.”

 “I’m sorry for letting my hurt ego and natural distrust cloud my judgment about you.” Elim sounds as sincere as he ever does, hesitantly brushing a hand across his cheek. Julian leans into the touch even as he keeps his gaze sharp and as wary as he ever manages to be with Elim. “It was an amatuer’s mistake, one I’m most embarrassed about, I assure you.”

“You can’t charm your way out of this, you know.” Julian warns him in a clipped voice, even though they both know that isn’t the least bit true. There’s almost no one Elim can’t convince to do exactly what he wants and Julian’s never been the hardest of marks. 

 Still, he hopes Elim won’t try and talk his way out of this, will show him something genuine instead of telling him more lies that are almost - but not quite - as good as the truth. 

 “I hurt you and for that I sincerely apologize, my dear.” Elim’s gaze changes for a moment, taking on a note of sincerity that makes Julian shiver in spite of himself. Julian leans in so their lips almost touch and takes in the cool breath against his own face. He could fall so easily.  “Tell me what you want me to do to make amends.”

 “Sit down, Elim.” Julian whispers before he can decide if it’s a good idea or not, making a sweeping gesture towards his bed. Elim gingerly takes a seat at the edge by his pillow, legs crossed at the ankle. Julian sits down next to him so their knees brush against each other. He prays there’s salvation in forgiveness after all.

* * *

 

 Garak wonders if this is acceptance  or a further rebuke, to be allowed these moments with Julian only to have him taken away from him entirely seconds later. Julian gives nothing away, letting out a sigh that sounds almost pained as his gaze flicks to the ground. 

 Julian keeps it locked on the tiles below them, breath coming out unsteadily. Julian finally looks up at him through his eyelashes, voice almost despondent. “It isn’t that I don’t want you - I have to rebuild my trust in us all over again, Elim, and I’m not sure if I have the energy to do that again. Not in the middle of the war.”

 “Again?” Garak raises an eye ridge as he presses his hand against the sheets, mind racing warily over other times he might have broken Julian’s heart. Certainly that time he nearly blew him up along with the founders hadn’t done him any favors, but somehow he doesn’t think that’s it. Not when Julian brought him chocolates in prison. 

 Julian blinks owlishly, mouth snapping open and closed a few times, as though shocked by his own words. Garak can’t believe he ever even entertained the idea that Julian could be a decent spy. Julian lets out a long exhale and then takes Elim’s hand between his own and squeezes it softly. There’s a touch of regret in his gaze, a hint of shame as Julian bites his lips. “After the incident in the holosuite, I was terrified about what I’d done, what it might mean for us.”

 “So you started spending less time with me because you shot me?” Garak asks dryly, raising an eye ridge as he leans in toward Julian again. He doesn’t understand why humans insist on quitting games right when they start to become  _ something.  _

 “Believe it or not, it usually is a dealbreaker in Terran relationships.” Julian scoffs even as relief feels his gaze when Garak lies his free hand over their clasped ones and pulls Julian closer rather than pushing him away. 

 “Well, I’d never respected you more. Before I knew you had brilliance, compassion, a certain level of bravery that was genuine and not simply the smug stupidity of youth.” Garak smiles a bit too wide, grin sharp in a way he suspects Julian should find frightening rather than inviting. Garak hopes it’s softened by the affection and pride he can’t quite keep out of his gaze. That  _ was _ the moment he realized he loved Julian, after all. “But after that I knew you had integrity.”

 Julian smiles a bit crookedly at that, leaning in so nearly their entire bodies are touching. His gaze somehow manages to be teasing and reproachful at once, voice taking on that wounded quality that always shakes Garak to his core in spite of himself. “Until you found out I’m not so human after all.”

 “Yes and no. I think a part of me wanted to think you were the detached, manipulative being your augmented status implied, even if the rational part of me knew better.” Garak chuckles a bit sharply, gaze almost sheepish as he presses their foreheads together. Julian’s far more dangerous as what he is, real and unrefined, than he ever was as a perfected augment. Garak wonders if he’ll ever understand that. 

 For now Julian laughs too, but it’s a choked and slightly bitter sound. Still, Julian doesn’t move away from him. 

 “Why would you want to imagine that?” Julian murmurs between chuckles, gaze curious even though Garak’s sure he knows the answer already. 

 “Hope is far more dangerous than cynicism, my dear.” Garak’s voice is little more than a whisper as he takes in the feel of Julian’s warm skin against his own, his slender frame pressing against his own more solid one. Julian intertwines their hands together and presses an almost painfully chaste kiss to his lips, long eyelashes fluttering against his skin. 

Julian pulls back and holds his gaze for what feels like hours, hands pressed against him. Then Julian smiles, small and crooked and with far more to it than Garak likely deserves. “Stay.”

 And Garak does. 

**Author's Note:**

> I love Garak, but he also has his own flaws and he does strike me as the type to lash out with hurtful words.


End file.
